


A White Veil Occasion

by stratumgermanitivum



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Creature!Hannibal, Dark Will Graham, Demon!Hannibal, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Infidelity, M/M, Molly deserved better, Sort Of, Will Graham Doesn't Need Help, but really molly is much better off for it, everyone else is a cannibal by proxy, monster fucking, more like 'fucking but also Hannibal needs to trim his nails and bite less', the mildest goddamn monster fucking you've ever read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17418053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: Will was doing fine. He was doing great. He was getting ready to marry a wonderful, beautiful woman, and live out his normal, ordinary life with her.Then the RSVP came from his ex-boyfriend. The RSVP he didn't send. From his ex-boyfriend, the sex demon. Specifically, Hannibal, patron demon of vengeance against lovers.





	A White Veil Occasion

The RSVP came in the mail, Molly’s handwriting on their carefully self-addressed return envelopes. The little yellow stamp with the wedding cake on it. Will paid it very little attention; Molly had happily taken over wedding planning. Will needed only to provide an opinion when one was requested and try not to forget his vows.

He hadn’t even noticed it, really. It was three months before the wedding, and Will had bigger concerns, like tying a new lure because if he had to think about tuxedos for one more second, he was going to scream.

“Babe?” Molly called from the kitchen.

“Yeah?” Will called back.

“Who’s Hannibal?”

Will pricked his finger on the fishing hook. A bead of blood welled up, dark and red. Will stared at it numbly.

“Babe?” Molly appeared in the doorway, frowning. In her hand, she held one of their response cards. Even across the room, Will recognized the careful, slanted handwriting. His heart was thudding, a deep, aching beat in his chest. Molly held out the card.

‘Will joyfully attend’ had been check marked, and there beneath it was the signature. Just the one name, the letters sharp-edged like knives. Will had not seen it written out in years, but he would have recognized the flourish anywhere.

“Who’s Hannibal?” Molly asked again, her eyebrows drawn together, frowning. Will’s side of the guest list had been noticeably sparse. He’d certainly never mentioned Hannibal. He wouldn’t have had an address for him, even if he _had_ wanted to see him again.

Which he did _not_. A hot bubble of rage boiled up inside of Will, and he snatched the card from Molly’s hand, rougher than he’d ever been around her. He stormed off towards the front door, Molly trailing behind him in a haze of confused shock. He didn’t think she’d ever seen him angry before, or anything more than irritated. Will had been so _careful_ since he met her.

“Will? Honey?”

“Nobody,” Will hissed, pausing to snatch up the open envelope from the mail table by the door. He stuffed the response card back into it, propping it against the door to scrawl ‘Return to Sender’ in large, spiky capital letters across the front.

“Will, there’s no return address.”

“Trust me,” Will growled, throwing the door open. He stormed down the driveway to their mailbox, shoving the envelope into it before turning towards the woods with a suspicious glare.

There was nobody there, of course. There was nobody around for miles, it was why they had chosen this place. And Hannibal would not have needed to put the letter in the mailbox himself.

But Will knew, despite the emptiness of the trees, that his response would be noted.

\------

Two weeks later, Will and Molly sat at the table, sorting through responses. Will’s pile was noticeably scarce.

“Oh good, my cousin John is coming,” Molly said brightly.

Will slid another envelope towards the ‘no’ pile. “Mine isn’t,” He said. He was not surprised. He’d only gone as far as inviting cousins at all because he had no remaining immediate family. The friends he’d sent letters to were distant, or work colleagues. People he’d invited only to sate Molly’s hunger for a _real_ wedding, a do-over of the courthouse debacle of her first.

One of his colleagues had responded in the affirmative. Will slid Alana Bloom’s RSVP into the appropriate pile and froze at the one underneath it.

_Hannibal Lecter will joyfully attend._

The ‘Lecter’ was new. Will mouthed the words, memorized them. Tried to place if he’d seen them before, if he could pinpoint when, exactly, Hannibal had come back to him.

Molly leaned against his shoulder. “I thought you sent that back?”

Will shoved the invitation into the ‘no’ pile. “Hey, are you still going to visit your mom this weekend?”

\-----

It had been a long time. A very long time. The motions still came to him, fluid and easy. As if it had been days instead of years.

Will didn’t need the book anymore, hadn’t since college, but he had kept it, tucked into a lock box with his gun, the knife, and the only photograph he hadn’t burned. A just-in-case kit. Any graven image would have done, but Will’s artistic talent had always been lacking. Not like Hannibal’s.

Will drew out the circle, carefully reproducing the glyphs in equidistant spaces. He spread the salt and lit the candles, and then removed his shirt, settling himself cross-legged in the center of the circle. He reached for his knife.

Hannibal had given him the knife. A birthday present, a celebration, bone-handled with a sharp-edged glint. When will had left, he’d tucked the knife away, and dreamed of the fit of it in his hands.

A body would have been better, but Will didn’t live to appease Hannibal any longer. He drew the blade across his palm and let the blood spill out across the first glyph.

\-----

_It had taken him weeks to get all the pieces together, hours upon hours pouring over the book. A bag of rock salt, for protection. Holy water, tucked into his pocket, just in case._

_Will Graham was sixteen years old, and he was terrified. Not of the monster he was going to summon, although his heart pounded harder and faster as he drew his circle in the dirt, but of what awaited him at home if he should fail. Another drunken night, another fist against the drywall. Against him, perhaps. Will’s eye was blackened, his cheek bruised. His father had woken in the morning filled with regret, promising to make it up to him, swearing up and down that it would never happen again._

_Just as he had the last time, and the time before that. Last night, he’d thrown a knife at Will. It had missed only because Will was already on his way out the door._

_The book had said they were drawn to blood, and the more the better. Will didn’t have anything to offer, though. No pets to sacrifice, though he was not sure he could have stomached it, even if he’d had them. Instead, he sliced across his arm, high up enough to hide in a shirt, and deep enough to spill huge drops of blood over the glyphs._

_For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Will stared down at the drops of his own blood, breathing heavily. Frustrated tears welled up behind his eyes; he wiped at them with a hand still streaked with dirt._

_“Someone has hurt you, sweet boy.”_

_The voice came from in front of him, although there had been no one there when he last looked. Will blinked, and the man was there, crouched down, his face inches from Will’s own, as close to the salt line as one could be without crossing it. Will yelped and jerked backwards, very nearly toppling out of the protective circle._

_The man- for he **was** a man, or at least wore the face of one- had sharp cheekbones and dark eyes. His hair was neatly slicked into place, and he was wearing a carefully tailored suit that the dirt didn’t dare cling to, even as he crouched in the middle of the woods with Will. Will had never seen anyone who looked like him, and somehow, he was the most beautiful man Will had ever seen. _

_“A-are you….” Will frowned, leaning as far over the circle as he dared to try and read the book. He’d left it open to the right page, just in case, but the text was small, the language difficult, the words uncomfortably strange. Will straightened up, trying to look like he knew what he was doing as he attempted to read the name. “Stero- Strio-St…”_

_Whatever the man said, it did not sound anything like a word to Will. It sounded more like the noise of an animal, a hissing, whining growl. Will startled again, badly, and nearly smudged his glyphs._

_The man smiled, all teeth. “For you, dear Will, I will answer to ‘Hannibal.’”_

_Will didn’t ask how Hannibal knew his name. He wasn’t sure he would like the answer._

_“H-Hannibal,” He repeated, wrapping his arms around his chest. “I need your help.”_

_Hannibal smiled wider. “Yes, you do, don’t you?” He crouched down in front of Will’s book, tracing out the letters. “Or rather, you needed someone else’s help. But I suppose I’ll have to do.”_

_Will frowned, leaning as far forward as he dared to see what had caught Hannibal’s attention. “What do you mean?”_

_“I’m afraid your translation is wrong. You wanted ‘storge‘. You’ve written ‘eros.’”_

_“What’s the difference?”_

_“You’ve attempted to summon the demon of vengeance against a loved one, in the familial sense. You’ve summoned the demon of vengeance against lovers, in the erotic sense.”_

_Will’s cheeks burned. “Ancient Greek is **hard**_ , _okay?”_

_Hannibal smiled. “I’ve no doubt. But you’ve managed quite a bit, haven’t you?” He paced around the circle, sending panicked butterflies through Will’s stomach as Will frantically turned to follow his path. “These symbols are not Greek, but your reproduction is flawless. Tell me, dear Will, what does this one say?”_

_He tapped the symbol with a smile. Will swallowed heavily and recited a word that he was no doubt mangling. The pronunciation written out in the book had seemed impossible, and he stuttered over the consonants. Still, Hannibal continued to smile._

_“And the meaning?”_

_Will knew it well. He knew all of them. His school notebooks were filled with carefully practiced reproductions._

_“Reckoning.”_

_The look on Hannibal’s face was one of pride, of pleasure. It made Will feel hot all over, made him feel uncomfortable. Exposed. “Very good, Will. You’ve worked hard, haven’t you?”_

_He had, and now it was all for nothing. He hadn’t even managed to summon the_ correct _violent demon from the pits of hell. Will nodded, frustrated tears brimming in his eyes._

_Hannibal moved. Faster than any human, faster than Will could follow. One moment alongside Will, the next right in front of him, looming, the tip of his nose at the very boundary of the salt circle. Close enough for Will to feel the heat of Hannibal’s breath against his skin. Will swallowed heavily._

_“There’s no need for any of that,” Hannibal said, his voice a sweet, deep timbre that warmed Will down to his very bones. “I can make an exception, for a pretty thing like you.” He inhaled, slowly. Will blinked at him._

_“Did you just… Did you just **smell** me?”_

_“Difficult to avoid,” Hannibal whispered. “Humans are so unusual. You look nearly finished, but you’re not quite ready yet, are you?”_

_The conversation had taken a turn that Will could not follow. Or rather, he could, but he didn’t want to. He wasn’t able to imagine himself in such a situation as this demon was probably used to. He bit down hard on his lower lip, and Hannibal tsked softly._

_“No need to worry, Will. I have no interest in children.”_

_“I’m not a child.” The response was sharp, a teenager’s automatic protest, and doing Will absolutely no favors, given the situation._

_Hannibal gave him a fond, nearly condescending smirk. “I have lived for millennia, Will. All of your kind are children to me.”_

_Will let out a slow, calming breath. “You said you could help me,” He prompted._

_Hannibal nodded. “You want your father to stop beating you, to stop looking at you the way he does, icy and concerned. And something else, isn’t there? Something that might have been on your mind when you summoned a thing like me, something that would have called to me…”_

_A thing that Will had been trying not to think about, since it had yet to be relevant. A thing that crept in under his skin, that he knew his father would never act upon, even on his lowest days, but which Will could read across every inch of his jaundiced skin. Will shuddered and shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean,” He insisted uselessly._

_Hannibal tilted his head with a curious expression. A false one, since he had already cracked open Will’s skull to look inside. “You favor your mother, do you not?”_

_“What do you want?” The words left Will in a rush, desperate to break away from the twisted thing that still scared him, that even at sixteen he was not yet ready to face. Hannibal watched him, shifting in his crouch, forcing eye contact even when Will meant to break away._

_“As I said,” Hannibal murmured in a heady, crooning voice, “Not quite finished yet, hmm?”_

_Will didn’t think that avoiding this particular topic was quite the same as being sexually repressed, but the thought of talking about sexual repression made him nauseous, so maybe Hannibal had a point. In any case, Hannibal cut off that train of thought by producing a roll of paper from his pocket, tied with a red ribbon._

_“A contract,” Hannibal told him, “The traditional offer, as I’m sure you’d guessed.”_

_“One human soul,” Will muttered dryly. “What does that even mean?”_

_“It means, sweet boy, that you belong to me, and that eventually I will come to collect.” Something flashed behind Hannibal’s eyes, something red and hot and intimidating. Will swallowed heavily._

_“Not the second I’m ‘ready,’ I hope?”_

_“Oh no,” Hannibal assured him, “You may live out the rest of your natural life. I’ll come to collect when life claims its price, not a minute sooner. It would hardly be a fair bargain if I plucked you the second you were ripe. Some fruits were meant to be aged.”_

_Hannibal talked about him as if he were an animal, or worse, an object. Will supposed all people were, to a demon, but it still made him stiffen uncomfortably._

_“If it helps your decision at all,” Hannibal said, “There is nothing awaiting you after a life of piety. And I can be a much better choice than some of the others who might come sniffing around your death bed.”_

_Will startled. He had not, in truth, believed in god at all, had been skeptical that the ritual would work, but he’d grown up with church and the heavy threat of religious justice, and it sent a flash of disappointment to hear his thoughts confirmed. “There’s no god?”_

_“Of course there’s a god, dear boy. Who do you think made **me**?”_

_Will shuddered and glanced away. Hannibal nudged the paper closer. It butted up against the line the salt had marked, crumpling slightly at the end as if it had hit a solid, physical wall. Will did not feel any safer for the confirmation._

_“So, I give you my eternal soul,” He said slowly, “Or whatever the equivalent is. And you’ll take care of him?”_

_“Your problem will be thoroughly dealt with, no loopholes, no small print. I am not the djinn of fairy tales, sweet Will. I am something much worse. And I keep to my bargains, so long as you keep to yours.”_

_“Not like I have a choice.”_

_“No,” Hannibal agreed, a flicker of amusement across his face, “You do not. Beyond the choice to agree. All you need to do is break the circle, and sign.”_

_Will reached out. He hesitated, his hand trembling over the salt line. There was no telling what he would bring upon himself, if he did this. No guarantee that he had summoned something helpful, something trustworthy. He could die here. He could be offering himself up to something that would consume him in his entirety. He **was** offering up eternity._

_Or he could go home. Home to the trailer, to another move next month, to the confused, heated hatred in his father’s eyes. To his father, drinking to forget Will’s mother, and seeing her in each and every curl of Will’s hair._

_Will shoved his hand across the salt line, breaking the circle in a far more violent motion than it required. He panted for breath, trembling as he waited._

_Anything was better than this. **Anything** at all._

_Hannibal did not sink into him, with fangs or claws. He unfurled the paper instead and held it out to Will. “A single drop of blood will do, not nearly the amount you’ve already wasted.”_

_But it had not been a waste, not to Will. To Will, if this worked, it was worth everything that would be taken from him. His blood and his soul. Will ran his thumb along the edge of his knife, enough to draw a thin sliver to the surface, and then pressed his thumb to the paper._

_Hannibal smiled at him, too wide to be natural, too sharp-toothed to be human. Will’s heart hammered in his chest, and the pain began._

_It was everywhere at first, coursing through his body in an unbearable agony. Will collapsed to the ground, screaming out his suffering as his body twitched and writhed. He thought he was going to die there, alone in the woods, a corpse for the demon to feed on. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the burning stopped. Will came too, lying across the edges of his circle, his head in Hannibal’s lap. His shoulder was still aching, even as the rest of his body went limp. Later, Will would inspect the spot in the mirror and find the symbol that was Hannibal’s true name. For now, it was only a source of pain that Will could not bear to touch._

_“Hurts,” Will whispered. Hannibal’s hands were on him, one around his waist, holding him in place. The other was pressed to his forehead, soothing the last of his fevered sweat._

_“A necessary sacrifice,” Hannibal told him, carding a hand through Will’s curls. Will could not help but tuck his face into the fabric of his pants, still whimpering softly. “If it was easy, everyone would do it. You are bound to me now, in sweat and blood and tears, and I take care of what is mine, sweet Will.”_

_“I just want him to die,” Will murmured, still hazy from the lingering twitches of his nerves. “I want him to fuck off and die. I want to be free. Even if it’s just until you come for me.”_

_“I keep my promises,” Hannibal reminded him. “Rest, Will. In the morning, Everything will be better.”_

_In the morning, Will awoke alone, in his bed, no proof of the night except an ink-black tattoo on his skin. Bill Graham, Sr. was found 30 miles away, his car in a ditch, his body ripped apart as if by animals._

_His heart was missing._

_Will did not see Hannibal again for nearly five years. But Hannibal, he would learn, saw him._

\-----

Decades later, in the attic of the home he shared with a wonderful, almost too-sweet woman, Will glared down at the spilled blood, which stubbornly refused to do anything. “Fine,” He muttered, “We’ll do it your way.”

Taking a deep breath, Will closed his eyes. “Hannibal,” He said, voice a soft croon, “I need you. Please.”

Silence, too still to be natural. The ink-black symbol across Will’s back seemed to burn, the heat ratcheting up in slow, steady increments, until it radiated hot pain across his shoulder blade.

The picture burst into flames.

Will very purposefully didn’t move, did not so much as flinch. He let a few more drops of blood spill, and then bandaged the cut with his shirt, licking at the nick in his lip. “There’s no need to be petty,” He drawled, as if he hadn’t broken out in a thin sheen of sweat, “Just because you can’t come past the circle.”

An intake of breath behind him, closer than it could possibly have been. Will did not turn to check the salt line. He knew Hannibal’s games by heart.

“It was a poor picture,” Hannibal told him, stepping around in front of Will, his shoes clicking quietly on the hard wood of the attic floor. “Your hands were shaking.”

“I was laughing,” Will reminded him. “The look on your face-“

“You might have warned me about the juice.”

“You might have warned me about the contract.”

A pause. Hannibal crouched before him, face to face. Will’s breath caught. He was still beautiful. He would always be beautiful, Will supposed. It was his nature. But Will had forgotten the exact shade of his eyes, the way they looked almost black in shadow, flecks of red like sparks. He had forgotten the crease of a smile at the corner of his mouth, the carefully arranged color of his hair, every piece of this body chosen to appeal, to titillate.

Hannibal could appear any way he liked, the better to suit his needs, but this every-day form had always been Will’s favorite.

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal said, the corner of his mouth twitching up, following the crease into a grin that Will had kissed a thousand times. “I have missed you.”

“Hello, Hannibal,” Will replied, just as calm, “What the fuck is your problem?”

The smile quirked back down. It was enough for Will to lean back and offer a grin of his own, feral and tainted by irritation.

“Was that really necessary?” Hannibal asked, “Have you summoned me just to curse at me? _Again.”_

“Don’t play coy, Hannibal, it’s never worked on me.” Will stretched his shoulders, flinching at a twinge of pain that drew Hannibal’s focus immediately.

“It would not hurt so much if you called for me more regularly,” He told Will. He reached his hand out, stopping just beyond the salt line. He could go no further, but Will did not need to know Hannibal in order to read the desire in his eyes. He leaned back on his hands, put an extra inch of space between them.

“You weren’t invited,” Will told him.

“An oversight, I’m sure,” Hannibal replied, a dangerous and familiar glint in his eyes. He was used to getting his way. For years, Will had not seen fit to deny it to him. No one ever had. Why deny someone who could slide under your veins, an ecstasy unmatched, a drug that no mortal compound could ever hope to rival?

Hannibal looked now as he had looked the last time, prowling over Will and sucking marks into his skin, as if he had known it was in fact, the last.

“It’s rude to invite yourself to a wedding. Shockingly rude.”

“Sweet boy, I wouldn’t miss your wedding for the world,” Hannibal growled. For a moment, Will saw through the Person Suit he wore, to the beast underneath, red-eyed and sharp fanged.

Hannibal had fucked him like that once, hard and hot. Will had screamed and sobbed and come over and over again. Had confused sex for love in the hazy way young people often did.

“Don’t call me that,” Will snapped. He leaned forward again, as if Hannibal’s ever-present, radiating heat didn’t bother him, as if he couldn’t smell him, was not remembering the taste of him. “You don’t have the right.”

Hannibal bared his teeth, more snarl than smile. “Whatever else you may do, wherever else you may go, you will always be mine, Will.

“Not yet,” Will hissed back, “Not until I drop dead. A natural death, you promised me.”

“And every day I am tempted to break that promise.”

“But you won’t,” Will said, and he knew it to be true even as he instinctively glanced down at the salt line. Still intact, still protecting Will from the demon he’d let into his bed, into his mind. “You would think it uncouth.”

“You spit generosity back in my face.” Hannibal leaned back onto his heels with a sigh, settling in a cross-legged position that mimicked Will’s. “You always have.”

“Generous,” Will drawled, “What have you done that’s generous?”

“Everything.” Hannibal did not raise his voice, but his eyes flashed dangerously. He was holding on to his person suit by fraying threads. Will had seen that supernatural control waver before. It never failed to be simultaneously intoxicating and horrifying.

“Everything?”

“Everything you have asked for, I have done. I have given you everything you wanted, Will, intervened for you when fate called for your end. I have broken my own rules. I have broken contracts. I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for _you_.”

“That sounds exhausting,” Will murmured, low, dangerous. He watched Hannibal’s frown deepen. Will was not the only one conditioned to recognize a partner’s displeasure. “It also sounds nothing like I remember it. As I recall, everything you’ve done, you’ve done for yourself, and your insufferable curiosity.”

“Nothing has ever peaked my curiosity more than you, dear Will.”

“Pretty words,” Will hummed, “Your knife always comes wrapped in grace and sweetness, doesn’t it?”

“My knife was enough for you when it sliced open your father.”

“I was _sixteen years old_ ,” Will yelled, some of his control slipping. Hannibal looked too pleased to see it, and Will hastily reigned himself in. “I was a child. I didn’t understand _contracts_ and _eternity_. I wasn’t even old enough to sign legally binding documents.”

“I am not bound by mortal laws,” Hannibal reminded him, “And you are all children to me.”

“That’s great, Hannibal, you just keep digging that hole.”

“If I recall, it was _you_ who initiated-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Will interrupted, face red. “Don’t come to the wedding, Hannibal. You were not invited. Your contract stated you claimed me at the end of my natural life. I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’ve already bought your gift,” Hannibal replied, mocking and bitter. Will had reduced him to that, had broken down his perfect poise. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“That’s what returns are for. Don’t make me do anything drastic. Goodbye, Hannibal.”

“I’m not done speaking with you,” Hannibal said. Will reached out a hand towards one of the symbols. “Don’t you dare, William-“

Oh no, his full name. It had not been what scared Will about his father, and it would not be what gave him pause with Hannibal.

“I’m not your child, Hannibal,” Will said, “And I’m not _yours_. Not yet.”

“You were _always_ -“

Will swiped his hand across the symbol, drawing a line of blood through it. It burned like pressing his fist against the red coils of a hot stove, but it did the trick. Generally, Hannibal could come and go as he pleased, but if he answered the call of the circle, he was bound by it. So long as Will drew it properly, and Will knew the symbols far too well to do anything else.

There was always the chance that Hannibal would choose to return on his own, but Will was banking on his sense of propriety and superiority. It would wound his ego to come back immediately after Will had dismissed him, and Hannibal was nothing if not a smug prick with a massive ego.

The minutes ticked by. Will was alone in the attic. Slowly, the tension ebbed. Alone, lonely, isolated. He felt sixteen years old again, like he would step out of the attic and into the backwoods of Louisiana. His heart was still racing. He felt hot all over.

He was aroused, half-hard in his jeans. Will blamed sense memory overwhelming him. And Hannibal. It was _very_ easy to blame Hannibal, when arousal was his entire motif.

Will spent the next hour scrubbing chalk lines and blood out of the wooden flooring and ignoring the way his brand tingled and sparked. Hannibal would return to finish the conversation, Will had no doubt, but for now he would stay in the shadows to lick his wounds.

Good. Will wasn’t in the mood to entertain him any longer.

\-----

_Will clung to the bedsheets with a whimper, hands trembling as Hannibal’s hips pressed flush against his ass._

_“Hush, sweet boy. You can take it,” Hannibal’s voice, hot against the sensitive skin of his ear. Will shuddered and rolled his hips back, despite the too-full pressure that threatened to overwhelm him._

_“Move,” He begged, “Hannibal, **please**.”_

_“Not yet,” Hannibal murmured. His hands traced Will’s sides, came up underneath his chest to hold Will tight against him. “Let me take my time with you.”_

_He knew, he had to know. Will should never have called to him with an ulterior motive; Hannibal could smell it on him._

_The plane ticket was tucked under a notebook in Will’s bedside drawer. All it would have taken was Hannibal getting over-excited in his quest for lube, and he would have uncovered it._

_Perhaps Will had hidden it there on purpose._

_Hannibal moved, pulling back and then forward in a smooth, undulating motion that brushed up against every bit of Will’s skin, chest to Will’s back, warming him, holding him. Will cried out._

_“Stay with me,” Hannibal whispered, nipping at Will’s neck. Will choked on air, hiding the sound beneath a low moan as Hannibal pinched at a nipple. “Don’t drift. I want your mind here, with me, in our bed.”_

_It was Will’s bed, really, and only for a few more hours. Will hid his face in the pillow and arched back into Hannibal’s embrace, encouraging Hannibal’s smooth and steady thrusts. “I’m here,” he promised, sliding a hand under his body to tangle their fingers together, “I’m right here.”_

_Hannibal fucked into him so slow, so sweet. It made Will’s skin tingle, sent shivers and sobs through his body. They had made love in a thousand different ways, at this point, violent and aggressive, soft and patient. Hannibal looming over him, Will’s wrists bound to the bed. Will on top, braced for balance on Hannibal’s chest. It was unbridled ecstasy every time, sometimes too much. Sometimes he wondered if he wanted Hannibal this badly, or if it was all part of Hannibal’s game._

_It was why he was leaving._

_Will pushed back, hauled himself onto all fours. He reached back to sink his fingernails into Hannibal’s hip, savoring the growl he wrenched from Hannibal’s chest, the way it vibrated against Will’s back. “Come on,” He begged, “Come in me.”_

_It didn’t take much. It never did. It was as if Hannibal had been hewn from stone in the exact image of Will’s fantasies. As if he’d made himself just for Will. A warm, skilled hand wrapped around Will’s cock, pulling him closer and closer towards the edge._

_“I love you, Will,” Hannibal murmured, and Will’s tears broke free._

_\-----_

Will woke from a hazy fog of lust and sorrow. He thrust up into empty air with a whine, erection thick and aching in his boxers. His face felt stiff; he touched his cheeks and found them damp, soaked with sleepy tears.

Beside him, Molly stirred in her sleep, mumbling something soft and wordless. Will stared at her for a long moment.

She was beautiful. Beautiful and sweet. Kind, nurturing. She made love like she couldn’t see the scars across Will’s body, like she didn’t know he was holding back. Will loved her, he did.

He just… It wasn’t…

It was different. It was not the same. He had never again caught that fire, that needy feeling that had meant love to a young and foolish man. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this soft sweetness was love, and the flames from before had been nothing more than cardinal sin.

Not that God would take him to task for any of that.

Will slid from the bed with a stiff gait. In the shower, he wrapped a hand around himself and tried to picture Molly, the curve of her thighs, the soft pink bow of her mouth.

Instead, he saw dark, red-flecked eyes, sharp fangs that had left scars across Will’s chest and shoulders. Hannibal, inside him and over him and around him.

Will spilled over his fingers with a pained groan, and immediately switched the shower to cold.

On his way out the door, he left a note. _Gone fishing_. He took the dogs. They would scare the fish away, but also the memories, the echoing shadow of Hannibal’s’ fingerprints on his skin.

\-----

Will _did_ catch a few fish, much to his own surprise and the dogs’ eager delight. They frolicked around him on the way back, sniffing eagerly at the bucket that held his catch. Buster in particular was nearly cat-like in his efforts to prod at the fish with a paw. Will was in a good mood when he arrived at home, right up until he walked into his living room to see Hannibal on the couch with a mug of tea.

Hannibal had never drunk bagged Lipton tea in his unfathomably long life, but it was far from the most infuriating or baffling thing about Hannibal in Will’s home.

“Will!” Molly chirped, her face flushed. She was seated beside Hannibal, body tilted towards him, though she jumped to her feet when Will walked in. There was a look in her eyes that might have provoked jealousy, had she been speaking to anybody else, but Will couldn’t blame her. Hannibal had that effect on people. Intentionally. “Your friend Hannibal came to visit!”

His friend, Hannibal. Hannibal smiled up at him from the couch, serene, calm. There was a flicker of smug joy in his eyes; he knew exactly what position he’d put Will in and was proud of it.

“It’s been a while,” Will ground out.

“Too long,” Hannibal agreed. He straightened, crossed his legs. The air was warm and smelled like vanilla and cloves, like a richer version of the fragrance Molly pressed into her throat, the soft skin of her wrists. Molly’s eyes were slightly glazed, she looked from Will to Hannibal with a nervous smile.

“Molly,” Will said gently, “Do you think you could grab me a cup of tea, too?”

“Oh!” Molly jumped to her feet, flustered. “Yes, of course, sweetie.” She fled the room, her face still flushed.

“ _Sweetie_ ,” Hannibal murmured, amused.

Will whirled on him with a furious glare. “Don’t do that!” He hissed.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”

“You _know_ what. Don’t. Not to her.”

The ambient temperature of the room dropped by about five degrees. Will breathed a sigh of relief, his last for a long while. “I dismissed you,” He said.

“You don’t have the power to dismiss me,” Hannibal reminded him, “I left as a courtesy, and have returned as one.”

“ _Courtesy?”_

“To your lovely bride, of course. One shouldn’t begin a relationship shrouded in lies, don’t you think?”

“She knows about you,” Will insisted. Hannibal’s raised eyebrow was doubtful. It was not _entirely_ a lie; Molly was intuitive, she’d guessed that Will had come from a bad breakup. Although she believed that Will had been the one abandoned, and had most likely assumed a woman. Will had done nothing to disavow her of either of those notions.

“But does she know about _you_?”

Will growled. Hannibal had always made him embarrassingly feral.

“Tea!” Molly bustled back into the room, setting herself on the armchair and leaving the couch to Will, no longer drawn to orbit Hannibal now that he’d dialed back his charm. Will eyed the open seat distrustfully and remained standing. He did not drink the tea he’d been handed.

For a moment, they all stared at each other. Molly’s smile was fixed, stiff. Will’s was non-existent. Only Hannibal appeared to be having any fun, his smile genuinely pleased.

“So how do you two know each other?” Molly asked, clearly trying to defuse the tension.

“He’s my ex.” Will ground out, knowing Hannibal would pick apart any lie he tried to spin.

Molly’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh! You… You never mentioned a boyfriend.”

“Husband, actually,” Hannibal piped up with that infuriating smirk. Both Molly and Will turned to him in open mouth shock. “And I’m afraid I still am,” Hannibal added, grinning at Will, “It _was_ a legally binding document, after all.”  Molly let out a little squeak that Will could barely hear over the rush of his own blood in his ears.

“I left you _years_ ago,” He growled.

“I’m afraid no papers ever reached me,” Hannibal replied, spreading his arms wide as if to say, ‘how odd.’

“I… I…” Molly seemed at a loss for words. Will could hardly blame her.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” Hannibal said, reaching out to pat her hand gently, “I’m sure we can get this all sorted out before the nuptials.” But despite his reassuring tone, Will knew there was only one way _Hannibal_ would consider the situation sorted.

\-----  
Hannibal was staying the night, because ‘Really, we don’t mind, we live _so_ far from town, and it’s already dark.’ Will would have been proud of Molly’s kind-hearted generosity, if it wasn’t _Hannibal_ , and if he wasn’t absolutely certain Hannibal was charming her somehow.

They hadn’t discussed the ‘divorce,’ beyond Hannibal assuring Molly he had the appropriate paperwork in his bag. The topic never seemed to go any further, no matter how Will attempted to redirect it. He always ended up discussing wedding décor and the weather, until night settled over the woods in a dark and heavy shadow, and Molly was giving Hannibal a thick blanket to cover the couch.

In the bedroom, however, there were no tricks to tilt Molly’s mind away from the topic. She whirled on Will with more fury than he’s ever seen on her features before. She looked the picture of the scorned woman, the type of person Will always imagined when Hannibal told stories of his worshippers. Will raises his hands, defensive and wary.

“You’re _married_?” Molly yelled, loud enough that Will was certain Hannibal was gleefully listening in.

“Not exactly,” Will tried, because there was no point in denying it at this stage, even if it was technically a lie. Hannibal normally considered himself above lies, but Will would not be surprised to learn Hannibal considered their relationship an emotional marriage, if not a legal one.

“How can you be ‘not exactly’ married, Will Graham? Either you are, or you aren’t.”

“It was more of a handfasting than a wedding,” Will tried, “And I haven’t seen the man in years. I put him out of my mind, I forgot about him.”

“And you didn’t think to make sure he signed the divorce papers first?”

“It wasn’t important!”

“Not important?” Molly said, “You invited him to our _wedding!_ ”

“I didn’t!” Will insisted, “He just showed up! It’s what he does!”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Will!” There were tears brimming in her eyes. Oh no. Will couldn’t stand it if she cried, especially over something that was entirely not his fault. He couldn’t have fixed this, even if he’d known about Hannibal’s latest little plot. Even if they’d genuinely been married, Hannibal would never have signed their relationship away. Will had a momentary hysterical thought of serving a civil suit at the gates of hell. Weren’t lawyers all supposed to end up there anyway? Hannibal’s lawyer would no doubt have been some great historical figure.

Molly was still staring at him, face damp. Will cupped her shoulders in his hands, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered against her hair. “I just… I didn’t want to think about him.”

Molly drew in a shaky breath, stiff in his arms. “He’s _that_ ex, isn’t he? The one you won’t talk about. The one that broke you.”

“I’m not _broken_ ,” Will protested, although he was not entirely certain that was true.

“No,” Molly agreed, a guilty flush crossing her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

She had, though. Will could see it clear as day. She’d always been gentle around him, always watching her step. Will bore the scars of Hannibal’s love and attention in more places than just his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Will whispered.

“God, and I invited him to _sleep_ on our _couch_. I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’ll wake him up right now, give him a piece of my mind.”

“No!” Will could see it now, Molly in all her motherly, defensive rage, Hannibal with an amused smile on his face. Amused right until he ripped her heart from her chest as punishment for her rudeness. So far, Hannibal seemed to view Molly with a patient indulgence, treating her as the innocent bystander she was. That would change if she made any attempt to lay claim to Will, and Will no longer had the sway over Hannibal that might keep her safe from Hannibal’s jealousy.

“No,” Will repeated, calmer this time. “It’s okay. We’ve both grown, we’ve… _changed_. I’m sure he’s not the same man he was when I knew him. He was very polite, and he seems to want this solved as much as we do.”

That, at least, was true, though Will wondered what sort of price Hannibal would place on a favorable outcome. If he could be bought at all.

Molly sighed and pressed her head against his shoulder. “I should have asked you first,” She admitted.

“It’s alright. Hannibal has a way with people.”

Molly laughed ruefully. “He is quite charming, isn’t he? I see what you saw in him.”

“It’s the charm that gets to you,” Will drawled, “But wait until you see him before coffee.”

Molly laughed again, her body shaking in Will’s arms. For a moment, Will imagined that they were alright.

\-----  
Hannibal had made them breakfast, when they awoke. Will eyed the meat distrustfully, but could not have given Molly a reason to avoid it. Molly ate with gusto, praising Hannibal’s cooking, as everyone did. Will poked and prodded at his plate until it looked like he’d devoured more than he had. It went against old instincts to waste food, but he knew where Hannibal sourced his ingredients.

“I have to go to work,” Molly explained apologetically, “But maybe the two of you can have a discussion today? Sort some things out?”

She’d offered to call in sick, but Will wanted her as far from Hannibal as possible for this conversation, a discussion that was not going to go well. Hannibal offered her a winning smile.

“Of course. You enjoy your day, Molly. I’m sure Will and I can sort this out.”

She left Will with a kiss to his cheek. Hannibal’s smile never wavered, but Will could see the threat in his eyes. He did not return the kiss.

“You’ve always been a jealous god,” Will mused once they were alone, “But this is low, even for you.”

Hannibal set the dishes aside to soak, staring Will down. “You could not have thought that I would stand aside for this.”

“You stood aside when I left,” Will pointed out.

“With the assumption you would return.”

“Well, you know what they say about assumptions.”

“Will.” There was a look in Hannibal’s eyes that was far from the jealousy and ire he’d so far displayed. It was a naked yearning, a desire that made Will uncomfortable in its intensity. “You cannot have been so unhappy.”

“I wasn’t,” Will admitted, “But I wanted something more.”

“More.” Hannibal’s voice was dangerously low, a whisper. The carefully guarded anger was seeping back in. “And is this more? This quiet little cottage. Pretty wife. Handsome dogs. It’s almost maddeningly polite, isn’t it? Tedious and simple.”

“It’s normal,” Will told him. “Some people like normal.”

“Some people do,” Hannibal agreed, “But you’ve never been ‘some people.’”

“How do you know? You changed me. You leapt on me before I was even fully grown. Before I was ‘finished,’ as you put it.”

“I never laid a hand on you in your childhood,” Hannibal said, primly offended. For a demon, he held to petty sensibilities as well as any man. “Besides, it was you who did the leaping.” Will rolled his eyes.

“Oh please. You left an impression, regardless. And it wasn’t me who laid the groundwork for our affair. I could have spent the rest of my life without ever seeing you again.”

“And a short life it would have been, without my interference,” Hannibal reminded him. “An affair, Will? Is that truly how you see us?”

It was not how Will saw them at all, but it was how he attempted to rationalize it in his mind. He shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “It was all it could have been.”

“You told me you loved me.”

Will paused, staring down into his coffee mug with tired eyes. “Because I thought you could return the favor.”

Hannibal went very stiff. Will didn’t dare to look at him. Hannibal could fake humanity better than most genuine humans. Will did not want to see the artifice of sorrow and hurt that he would manage. Hannibal was capable of obsession, of lust and of yearning. He was not capable of love. Will knew this down to his bones. Had to know it, if he was going to survive himself.

“Will-“

“I’m going fishing.” Will shoved himself away from the table, avoiding the hand that reached for him. “You should magic up some papers for me to sign.”

“You seem very certain I’ll do so, for someone who avoids the topic entirely.”

“You have me forever,” Will told him, “What’s a few more years?” He turned on his heel, abandoning Hannibal to the dishes. Hannibal should be used to the sight of his back, by now.

\-----  
_Will was just barely into his twenties when Hannibal finally returned. He’d graduated college with the prickling sensation of eyes on him, and gone straight into the police academy from there. He’d moved into a tiny shithole apartment on a baby cop’s salary, done a little bit of dating, lost his virginity in an ill-advised, drunken tryst._

_It was the tryst that damned him, or tried to. The affair had been brief, but intense. Matthew Brown had looked at Will with lust and obsessive determination in his eyes. When he went as far as to linger outside of Will’s job, Will put his foot down._

_“I can’t do this anymore, Matt,” He’d said. “I don’t want to see or hear from you again. I’ll get a restraining order if I have to. Please don’t force my hand.”_

_Matthew had been coldly furious, but Will had not seen him again. He’d thought that would be the end of it, until the well-dressed man showed up in his apartment one night._

_“Hello, sweet boy. How you’ve grown.”_

_Hannibal had not aged a day. He stood in Will’s kitchen in a plaid-printed suit with a paisley tie, a crisp white apron around his waist. He was cooking. Specifically, he was cooking items that Will knew for a fact were not in his kitchen. New York Strip had a distinct scent and was far beyond Will’s ‘ramen-and-saltines’ post-college budget._

_“You’re real.” It was a stupid thing to say. Of **course** he was real, Will’s father had been dead for years and Will bore the mark that proved it. And yet, Will had seen neither hide nor hair of the supernatural since the moment he passed out in Hannibal’s lap. Nothing unexplainable, nothing bizarre. Just tedious, ordinary life. _

_Hannibal looked amused. He chuckled softly and set a plate out at Will’s rickety table. “I am indeed. You must be starving, judging by the state of your kitchen. Sit. Eat.”_

_Will sat. He did not eat. He poked nervously at the asparagus instead. It looked delicious. “I feel like I’ve read about this in a book. I’m not going to end up trapped in an alternate dimension if I eat this, am I?”_

_Hannibal smiled, sitting across from him and cutting a delicate bite of his meat. “I’m a demon, Will, not a fae creature from a story. Besides, I already own your soul.”_

_That was far more reassuring than it should have been, and Will **was** hungry. He took an obscenely large bite, too famished for anything smaller. He’d had crackers for lunch. _

_“This is really good,” Will said, surprise coloring his voice._

_“We do have food where I come from.”_

_“And where exactly is that?”_

_Hannibal’s eyes seemed to glow. “ **Everywhere**.”_

_Will ducked his head and forced down another bite. “Not that this isn’t great, and all, but why are you here? You said no loopholes, no fine print.”_

_“So I did,” Hannibal agreed, “In fact, I made the same deal earlier tonight with another young man.”_

_Will stiffened. The meat was ash in his mouth. He knew Hannibal’s leitmotif, the calling cards he liked to leave. “Matthew Brown,” He said, forcing himself to take a sip of whatever Hannibal had provided. It turned out to be a sweet red wine, meant to be savored. Will gulped it instead._

_“Matthew Brown,” Hannibal agreed._

_“What are the odds?”_

_“He was fascinated by your mark,” Hannibal explained. Will would have sworn he felt it twinge, though there had been no pain in the years since he’d healed. “Fascinated by you, in your entirety. He had photographs. You slept very soundly that night.”_

_Will felt nauseous. He hid his grimace in his wine glass. “The patron demon of vengeance against a lover. Did you feed my father before you killed him?”_

_“No,” Hannibal said, “Nor did I offer him what I’m about to offer you.”_

_Will’s heart thudded in his chest. “No loopholes,” He whispered, “No fine print. Whatever you offered Matthew Brown, you are bound to.”_

_“That is true,” Hannibal agreed, “Pity, then, that I never gave the poor boy a time frame.”_

_Will’s hand clenched on his glass. Any more tension in his body, and he would break it. “What exactly are you saying?”_

_“It’s very easy to avoid breaking the rules when you are the one that makes them.” Hannibal smiled wide, showing all his sharp teeth. “And I am bound to no agreement held by a dead man.”_

_“Matthew Brown isn’t dead.”_

_“No, he isn’t,” Hannibal agreed. “Eat your dinner, Will.”_

_Will took another bite, motions mechanical. “You want me to kill him.”_

_“I want you to do whatever you choose to do,” Hannibal corrected. “You could offer yourself to me right now. I would make it quick for you. Painless. Or…”_

_“Or I could kill him,” Will said stiffly._

_“One could argue it to be self-defense.”_

_“Can I present you as evidence at my trial?” Will drawled, stabbing viciously at his plate._

_“Fear makes you rude, dear Will.”_

_“I know you’re not exactly human, but you can understand why I’m afraid, can’t you?”_

_Hannibal looked at Will over the rim of his wine glass. “I’ll make you a deal,” He said slowly._

_“Another one? I’m fresh out of souls to give.”_

_“Sarcasm is more fetching on you than most, sweet boy, but still unnecessary. As I was saying. If you make things interesting enough, I’m sure I can eliminate any unfortunate traces left behind.”_

_“Can you eliminate an entire goddamn corpse?”_

_“Yes.”_

_Will stared at him for a long moment. “Oh.” He said, for lack of any better response. Hannibal grinned._

_They never found Matthew Brown’s body, but he left his mark behind, regardless. Will came to him in the dead of night, armed with the same knife he’d used to bring Hannibal to the Louisiana forests. There was a prickle of guilt lingering in his stomach as he crept in through the window, but it was not like this was the event that would damn him to hell. And if he was going to get there anyway, Will would have preferred to put it off as long as possible._

_They were evenly matched in size, and Will had the advantage of surprise, but Matthew fought dirty. He came at Will with his teeth, with his nails, ripping chunks from Will’s hair and skin before Will managed to subdue him. It was more desperation than any real plan. Will stabbed into him over and over again, until blood was running down his wrists, until the light left Matthew Brown’s eyes. And then, hands shaking, body racked with sobs, Will stabbed him again. And again. Every ounce of fear and doubt Will had harbored, over Hannibal, over Matthew’s stalking, Will poured back into the body. He ripped and sliced until it less resembled a human and more resembled hamburger meat. Will pulled the intestines out with his bare hands._

_He was panting, when Hannibal finally grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back into his lap. There were tears in Will’s eyes as firm arms wrapped around him._

_“That’s enough, sweet boy. You’ve done what I wanted.”_

_“What you **wanted** ,” Will spat. “You’ve made a killer out of me.”_

_“A killer was made of you at sixteen years old, when you begged me to kill your father. You were the cause of his death, Will, I was simply your murder weapon.”_

_With a cry, Will turned on Hannibal, sinking the blade into his left shoulder. He stared at the wound in shock, wide eyed. It was bleeding._

_“You… I didn’t think…”_

_“All part of the show,” Hannibal assured him, wrenching the knife from his shoulder. Sure enough, the wound sealed itself up, as did the hole in the fabric. Will traced his fingers over where it had been. The blood on his hands didn’t stick._

_“You can look however you want.”_

_“I can.”_

_Will frowned. “Patron demon of vengeance against lovers. You would think you’d look more… I don’t know. Conventional.”_

_“I have many forms to appeal to those who call me. For Mr. Brown, I appeared as you.”_

_Will cringed. “And this is what you chose for me?”_

_“It’s my preferred state,” Hannibal told him, “You see me in a truer form than he did. Do you disapprove.”_

_“No! No, I…” Will didn’t know how he felt. He didn’t know why he cared at all._

_“If it bothers you, I can always try something else.” Hannibal shifted beneath him. Suddenly, Will straddled the lap of a young woman, just a bit older than him. Wavy brown hair, blue eyes. The red tint of lipstick on her lips matched the vibrant red of her dress. It rode up her creamy thighs. She was a vision straight out of Will’s fumbling teenage dreams. She made him uncomfortable._

_“No,” Will murmured. “No, just you.”_

_“Just me?” The woman echoed. Hannibal flickered into place, solid beneath Will. Will wobbled slightly, clutching his shoulders for balance. “Just me, the way I am?”_

_The way he always had been, in every nightmare Will had had since he was sixteen. And they had not all been solely horror. There had been a few red-tinted dreams that had lingered, under his skin._

_Will cupped Hannibal’s face in his bloody hands and kissed him. Again, and again, until Hannibal sucked in a breath and rolled Will onto his back._

_They fucked right there next to the corpse. Will was dizzy with sensation, the heat of Hannibal’s mouth licking the blood from his fingertips, licking him open. Will arched and whined beneath every touch, squirming as Hannibal spread his thighs wide._

_“Beautiful brilliant creature,” Hannibal hissed into the skin of Will’s throat. He slid home in short, careful thrusts, guiding his way into Will’s body as if he belonged there, as if he had seen the fabric of Will’s dreams and sought to make them reality. Will scrambled for purchase on the floor, hands sliding through the tacky, drying blood. Hannibal took Will’s hands in his own, letting Will cling to him as they moved together._

_“I wanted you,” Will admitted, “I wanted you when I first saw you, and every night after. Is it like that for everyone who sees you?”_

_“For some,” Hannibal told the curve of Will’s jaw, “Not for everyone. And even less have had me like this. None who have lived to tell about it.”_

_Because Hannibal was a demon, a vicious, gorgeous creature who seduced his victims into bed, who devoured them while they were still writhing in passion. Will had never looked Hannibal up, but he knew it as suddenly and as truly as his own name._

_“Hell of a way to die,” Will gasped, arching into the next thrust._

_“Sweet boy,” Hannibal purred, “I’m not nearly done with you yet._

_\-----_

Hannibal came to Will by the river, because of course he fucking did. He at least had the decency to wait an hour, to give Will a moment’s peace with himself.

Hannibal stood beside him, waist deep in the water, still in his carefully pressed suit. Will knew that it would be bone dry when they waded out. “You never did tell me why you left,” He murmured. Will ignored him, eyes on the line. “You might have told me you were feeling neglected.”

That pulled a snort from Will. “Neglected? No. You were nothing if not… _thorough_ , in your attentions.”

“And yet you left,” Hannibal said, staring him down. “Without so much as a note. I woke to an empty bed, nothing but your scent to remember you by.”

“You could have found me. You chose not to.”

“I didn’t see the point in lingering where I was so clearly unwanted.”

Will nearly dropped his fishing pole. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’ve been unwanted for this entire visit! You invited yourself to my goddamn wedding.”

“I’ve done my best not to force my presence on you,” Hannibal said stiffly, “But this is an insult I cannot bear, Will.”

“If you can’t have me, no one can?”

“There was a time when that would have pleased you,” Hannibal pointed out. “A time when you would have welcomed my possessiveness.”

“But possessiveness was all it was, wasn’t it?” Will growled. “I was a shiny toy for you to play with.”

“You were never a toy, Will.”

“Bullshit!” Will yelled, “You made a killer out of me. And _don’t_ -“ Will held up a hand in front of Hannibal’s open mouth, “-Say I was already a killer when you came to me. Not again. I was sixteen, and scared. You were offering me safety. Of course I took you up on it. But you didn’t have to come to me about Matthew Brown. You didn’t have to make me feel like I had no other choice.”

“I could have ripped your organs out through your throat, would you have preferred that?”

Will flinched and shook his head. “Don’t blame me because you warped your own rules.”

Hannibal watched him, pensive. When he spoke again, it was to point out a topic Will had been hoping (fruitlessly) to dodge. “And Randall Tier? Shall you blame me for him as well?”

“He was a killer. He’d murdered six people before I got to him.”

“Does that justify what you rained down upon him?” Hannibal asked, “They never did find the rest of him, did they?”

“You _left me_ ,” Will spat. “You fucked me in my ex’s remains, and then took the body and ran. I called, and you didn’t answer. And I… I had to know, okay. I had to know why you offered me that deal.”

“Because you were the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen, and because your darkness blossomed so close to the surface that I could not help but want to coax it out. Why did _you_ kill with me after I returned?”

“Because they were going to die anyway,” Will told him, “Because they’d made your list, and there was nothing I could do to save them. But I could be with you, and I wanted that, I wanted-“ Hannibal’s hand landed on his arm. Will jerked away, reeling in his line as quickly as he could. “I loved you,” He said, backing out of the water, “I loved you, and look what you did to me.”

Will spun on his heel and ran. He knew Hannibal would follow, but if the pattern held, he might get a few minutes to get his head back on straight.

\-----  
_He kept the heart in a cooler and dragged the whole thing out to the woods. The police would find bits and pieces of Randall Tier’s body, but no trace of Will. Every ounce of his forensics knowledge had gone into this kill, into finding the perfect victim and tracking them down. Will hoped it was worth it._

_It was the heart he put into the center of the circle this time, carefully trapped in a ring of salt, just for old time’s sake._

_Will said Hannibal’s true name when he summoned him, spilling a jar of Randall’s blood over the symbols and then scrambling to back away. He’d practiced this bit, the careful pronunciation, and now he hid himself behind a tree to wait. His shoulder began to burn, and he had to bite down hard on his fist to keep the whimpers at bay._

_Hannibal burst into being just a few feet away. One moment, empty space. The next, a three-piece suit. He looked surprised to see the circle, empty but for the heart. Only for a moment. Then, he tilted his head back, took a deep breath through his nose, and smiled._

_“Will.”_

_“You spoiled the surprise,” Will said, stepping out from behind the tree. Hannibal turned that blazing smile on him._

_“Oh, I’m still very surprised. Is this a gift for me, then?”_

_Will stepped forward, breaking the salt line with his foot. “Is there another sex demon I should give offerings to?”_

_Hannibal’s smile bared his teeth. “Not if you wish to remain in one piece. We are not all so kind.”_

_“Do you like your present?” Will asked. Hannibal crossed the circle and brought the heart up to his mouth. With a soft smile, he bit into the reddened flesh. His gaze was intense, Will shuddered under its sharp focus._

_“A wonderful gift, Will. What’s the occasion?”_

_“It’s our anniversary,” Will joked. Technically, it was true. It had been a summer night much like this one when Will had first called Hannibal to his aid._

_“So it is. Did you have plans for after dinner, then?”_

_“Maybe.” Will stared at the heart and tried not to let the word ‘dinner’ panic him too much. “What would it take for you to stay, come morning?”_

_Hannibal tilted his head, thinking it over. “Come to work with me.”_

_Will paused, his hand reaching out for Hannibal’s sleeve. He bit down on his lower lip._

_Work. Another body. Another corpse cooling under Will’s hands. Perhaps one less deserving this time._

_Hannibal, there, close beside him. In his bed. In his kitchen._

_“Okay.”_

_\-----_

Will dodged Hannibal throughout their property for the rest of the day. He could feel Hannibal lurking just out of sight, but Hannibal was magnanimous enough to keep it to creepy staring instead of talking. Will could only imagine that the look on his face did not invite rational arguments.

To Will’s surprise, when Molly came home from work, Hannibal had procured divorce papers. Will sat at the table, reading them over, searching for the catch.

“No loopholes,” Hannibal explained to Molly, “No fine print. We each leave the marriage with what we brought in.”

Molly nodded eagerly. She liked Hannibal, despite her misgivings from the previous night. Will tried not to resent her for it. As far as he was aware, everybody liked Hannibal. “And you’ll file them immediately?”

“I’ll take care of things the second I leave,” Hannibal promised, which was technically true, in the sense that there was no need to file them in the first place. This was a farce for Molly’s benefit, only, which made it all the more strange that Hannibal was going through with it.

They signed the papers. Molly, feeling much more kind hearted and generous now that the problem had been dealt with, invited Hannibal to stay for dinner, and then kicked them both out of the kitchen. Will couldn’t tell if Hannibal was more offended or amused.

“What’s your game?” Will asked, out on the porch, staring up at the stars.

“You assume there’s a game,” Hannibal replied.

“There’s always a game with you,” Will said, “You always have to see what happens.

“Perhaps I am tired of chasing someone who doesn’t want me.”

As if that was the problem, as if every molecule of Will’s being didn’t cry out for Hannibal. “So that’s it, then? You’re giving up?”

“It doesn’t get you out of our contract, Will.”

“I didn’t expect it to,” Will rolled his eyes. “But I’m surprised to see you relax your possessiveness.”

“I have you forever,” Hannibal reminded him, “What’s a few more years.”

“Gee,” Will growled, “Doesn’t that sound familiar? That would have been a nice sentiment for you to share earlier.”

“Did you not want me to concede?” Hannibal asked curiously, tilting his head. “I could go back in and fight for your hand some more. I don’t think poor Molly would be able to put up much resistance.”

“Don’t-“ Will shook his head. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

Hannibal watched him for a long, quiet moment. “You include yourself in that,” He finally said. Will sighed.

“I hate it when you do that. I’ve always hated it. It feels like you’re prodding around inside my head.”

“I can’t read your mind, Will.”

“No, but you don’t have to, do you? You never did.” Will leaned forward, draping himself over the porch bannister.

“On the contrary, I’ve never quite been able to predict you.”

Will let out a bitter laugh and buried his face in his hands. “I suppose I should be thankful for that. It’s what allowed me to leave.”

“And what allowed you to grow so upset with me in the first place,” Hannibal said. He stood next to Will at the bannister, radiating warmth against Will’s side without ever touching him. “You hid your unhappiness well.”

“I was never unhappy, Hannibal, that was the problem.”

“You believe I didn’t love you.”

“Could you? Are you even capable?” Hannibal looked affronted. Will sighed. “Hannibal, you’ve said so many times how different you feel from humans. How we’re all children to you. You’re a demon of lust. Do you even know what love is?”

Hannibal’s hands clenched on the bannister, which creaked ominously. If Will let his eyesight go blurry and caught a glimpse of them through his peripheral, he thought he could see claws. “I have given you everything,” He said quietly. “Everything I am capable of giving.”

“You were escalating, Hannibal. You were so joyful in your ability to share with me, that you were going to get me caught.”

“With all my gifts, Will, do you truly think there is a prison they’ve built that could keep you from me?”

“You were _feeding them to me_ ,” Will hissed, “And you never told me. Because you knew how I would react. And because you found it _interesting_.”

Hannibal looked distinctly uncomfortable. His form was still shimmering, still ever-so-slightly awkward if Will let his gaze linger. “I underestimated your response,” He said stiffly.

“Yeah, you were good at that,” Will growled back. He looked away, tried to find his center again. “Thank you for signing the papers,” He forced himself to say, “It means a lot to Molly.”

“You will return to me eventually, Will. This marriage is only until death do you part.”

“I just need to be normal for a while, Hannibal.”

“But will it be satisfying?”

Hannibal’s words lingered, heavy on Will’s back. His hands shook on the bannister. “Please,” He begged, “Please, if you can pretend to love me, if you can stand there with a straight face and tell me it _meant_ something to you… Please, just leave.”

“Will-“

“I don’t want to see you,” Will interrupted, “I don’t want to think about you. I just want to live my life, Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s hand landed on Will’s shoulder. Will looked up at him and couldn’t help himself.

Hannibal still tasted like mint, still kissed like Will was the very air he breathed. Will moaned into his mouth, and Hannibal opened for him like they had never been parted.

It took everything in Will to pull away. Because he knew what came next. He knew what lay in wait, what ‘normal’ meant to Hannibal.

And every second that they looked at each other, it became harder and harder to remember why he cared.

“Please,” Will whispered.

“Will you be happy?” Hannibal asked him. He looked shattered. He looked like an ordinary human being did when faced with loss.

“I’m going to try to be.”

When Molly came to get them, Will was alone. His mouth still ached with the imprint of Hannibal’s kiss.

“He doesn’t like pork chops?” She asked with a frown.

“He had a plane to catch. He’s sorry he’s going to miss the wedding.”

\-----  
_“If I saw you every day forever, Will, I would remember this time.”_

_Will looked up, covered in blood. The man had screamed, had begged him for mercy. Will had barely heard him over the pounding of his own heart._

_“I love you,” Will whispered, the first time he said it, “I think I’ve always loved you.”_

_Hannibal knelt before him, reaching out to cup his cheek. “I have never felt for anyone what it is I feel for you,” He replied, “I **ache** for you, sweet boy.”_

_Will **had** to kiss him then. “Show me,” He said, “Show me how you feel. Show me all of you.”_

_Hannibal dropped the person suit. They moved together like the world was coming apart around them. Will ached, by the end of it. They got blood everywhere._

_It was beautiful._

_\-----_  
Will fidgeted with his cufflinks. His hands didn’t tremble. His palms were not sweaty. He wasn’t nervous at all.

It was the day of Will’s wedding, and he didn’t feel a hint of anxiety about it. In fact, the only thing he felt was irritated with the way the late summer sun was beating down on his black suit. He’d survived worse, growing up in Louisiana, but he was not any more thrilled to relive it.

Molly was beautiful. She was absolutely radiant. Will had never seen a more wonderful woman.

His heart did not pound.

Molly knew something was wrong, he could see it in her eyes. She was a brilliant woman, really. She would have made any normal, healthy man happy. She had no idea how many nights Will had stayed up, scrubbing blood out from under his fingernails. If she knew, she would have been horrified.

Hannibal had licked the droplets from Will’s skin with a burning tongue.

“If there anyone has a reason why these two should not be wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

For a moment, Will’s heart rate sped up. He did not realize what he was waiting for, until it didn’t come. Until _Hannibal_ didn’t come.

“Then, by the power vested in me-“

Will looked at Molly. Molly looked at him. She _knew_. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she gave him a single nod.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“I now pronounce you-“

Will fled.

\-----  
“Hannibal!” Will drew the circle with frantic motions, dragging his fingers through dirt and sticks. He’d nicked himself on a branch and was already bleeding over half-finished symbols. “Hannibal!” He called again, and then when that failed, slurred his way through Hannibal’s unpronounceable true name. He stumbled over the symbols. He had not brought salt. He didn’t need it. His mind still screamed at him that he was doing this all wrong.

“Hannibal!” For a moment, Will wondered if he needed more blood. He could slit his own throat. That would certainly be enough blood, and what’s more, his death was guaranteed to bring Hannibal to him. Will couldn’t help the hysterical laughter that bubbled up in his chest. He might do it, too. What horrors could hell hold, when Hannibal was there? Will was not even certain Hell was a real place. He’d never had the courage to ask. “Hannibal!”

“Will.”

Will whirled around. Hannibal looked like he was barely holding himself together. Something flickered at the edges of his suit, something dark and menacing. He looked tired. And confused.

“Did you love me?” Will demanded.

“Will-“

“ _Did you love me_?” He repeated.

Hannibal looked pained. “I loved you,” He said, “I love you even now. I have thought of you every waking moment since you left.”

“Why did you leave that night?” Will whispered. He knew, but he needed to hear it. “You signed the papers, and you left.”

“Because you asked it of me. Because the only thing worse than not having you, would be to have you look at me every day with hatred in your eyes. And because I hoped that if I let you go, you would be more forgiving when I had to return for you.”

Hannibal loved him. Hannibal had loved him this entire time, even as Will longed for him. Will’s eyes watered. His hands shook. His pulse pounded in his ears.

He reached for Hannibal, dragging him down into a bruising kiss. He nipped at Hannibal’s mouth until Hannibal got over the shock enough to let Will in.

“Show me,” Will whispered, “Show me that you love me.”

“Your bride-“

“-Will be a lot happier with someone else. As will I. _Show me_ , Hannibal.”

Hannibal’s true form was pitch-black, as if he’d been burned over every inch of his body, but his skin was smooth and soft to the touch. He was violent in his need, shoving Will down to the forest floor. Will welcomed him with open arms, with eager moans. His suit was in tatters around him. Hannibal had ripped even the belt in two, rending anything that kept him from Will’s body. Will arched up into him, drew him close. His skin was blisteringly hot, enough that it should have burned.

“You love me,” Will whispered, as Hannibal spread him open with long fingers. “You love me,” He said again, as Hannibal’s claws left pinpricks of blood against his hips.

Hannibal was endowed even in his artificial form, but like this, he was huge all over. He covered Will with his body, trapping him against the leaves and dirt. There was a sharp rock digging into the small of Will’s back. He didn’t care.

“And you?” Hannibal whispered, teeth sharp against Will’s jugular. He could rip Will apart in seconds. Had reason to, given how badly he’d been hurt. Will felt no fear. They were together again, and not even death would rip him from Hannibal’s arms.

“I love you,” Will said, and was rewarded with a perfect, brutal thrust in. “I love you,” He said again, and again, arching up into every rocking motion until he was practically screaming it.

“Never again,” Hannibal murmured.

“Never again,” Will promised, shaking his head, “Never, I swear, _please_ , Hannibal.” He wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist .His skin was red where Hannibal had touched it. Hannibal pressed into him again, and again, jerking Will’s body in rough motions against the ground. Will could feel his skin breaking open, the suit no longer a blanket between himself and the rough surroundings. Even that sharp pain felt like pleasure, when they were together like this.

“Again,” He begged, and Hannibal thrust harder, pushing one of Will’s thighs up and out to get more leverage. He wrapped one large, hot hand around Will’s cock, and Will sobbed out his pleasure.

“I love you,” Will said again. Hannibal set his teeth to Will’s collarbone and bit down, and that was all it took. Will spilled over his own stomach with a strangled cry, shaking beneath Hannibal. Hannibal fucked him through it in sharp, eager motions, spilling molten hot inside of him.

They collapsed together in a heap. Hannibal’s eyes flickered from red to brown, trying to shield himself in his person suit and not quite able to manage it.

“If you leave me,” Hannibal whispered, “If I wake up alone again, I won’t be able to bear it. I’m afraid I’d tear the world apart looking for you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Will promised, and then shifted with a wince. “Except maybe a hotel room,” He amended. Hannibal grinned, his teeth stained with Will’s blood.

“How do you feel about Florence?”

\-----

Molly Foster had a good life, with a great many friends. It was easier to put herself back together again, after The Fiasco than it perhaps would have been for anyone else.

It helped that she had always sort of suspected something like this would happen. Sometimes, when Will had looked at her, she’d felt like he was looking straight through her. Like he was smiling at someone who wasn’t there.

She’d thought they were happy enough, but she’d always known something was missing. She just hadn’t realized it was something that was going to come waltzing back into their lives.

Okay, so she didn’t really blame Will, but she wasn’t _Hannibal’s_ biggest fan. Less so when the letter arrived in precise, careful calligraphy that Will never would have managed.

 _Will believed we owed you an apology,_ The letter read, _I’m inclined to believe he was right. Thank you for looking after him for me. Hannibal._

The check inside was for an obscene amount. The note in the corner designated it ‘Alimony.’ Molly laughed until she cried. She cashed it in the morning. It was the least they owed her.

Things like that always happened for Molly Foster, from then on. Good things. Obscenely lucky things. She met a man at the park. He had two dogs. They had three beautiful children together, and everything always seemed to work out.

And sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of fitted suits and chocolate curls. Only a glimpse, nothing more. But she _knew._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate Titles: Speak Now, Horrified Looks From Everyone In The Room, Gratuitous Taylor Swift Reference
> 
> yo if you got a better summary than that bullshit, hit me up, but it's 5:30 AM and I am not waiting any longer to post this. 
> 
> Edit: AHHH I completely forgot. Let’s play “Spot the gratuitous Labyrinth reference!” (And by “reference” I mean “Strats flat out stole entire lines of dialogue in one scene because it was too perfect to resist”)
> 
> Edit 2: upon rereading at no other point does will need a picture to summon Hannibal. Oops. I’ll have to fiddle with that later, but for now I’m leaving it because I enjoy the chance to write Hannibal as a petty bitch. 
> 
> So, this fic. _This fic._ I wrote 5000 words of it over about a week... And then the other 8000 yesterday because oh my god this fic latched onto my brain and wouldn't leave.
> 
> This is based on a dream I had, as my wedding gets closer, in which my ex boyfriend was a demon who RSVP'd to my wedding, a wedding which he was not invited to, because it turned out that demons don't believe in breakups. And I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
> 
> There are a couple of deleted scenes that didn't make it into the fic, maybe one day I'll post them. 
> 
> Some Thoughts:
> 
> So, uh... As much as Hannibal says Will is 'unfinished' and he doesn't have an interest in children... He absolutely would have fucked teenage Will, if he thought Will would have been up for that. Will had a beautiful darkness Hannibal was drawn to, and Hannibal is a demon with no human morality to whom all humans are equally 'young.' He wouldn't see much difference between Will at 16 and Will at 21. Thankfully for Will and my sanity, Will was not in a place to be seduced, and Hannibal wasn't in the mood to be coaxing. 
> 
> Will's also not entirely wrong when he accuses Hannibal of 'leaping' on him at sixteen, because Hannibal followed him like a creepy stalker, just to 'check up.' Although if Matthew Brown hadn't intervened, Hannibal would have never spoken to Will again until his death.
> 
> I love Molly. Molly deserves better. I made Molly be pretty chill about the whole thing, because otherwise I would be forced to punch Will in the face because who the fuck leaves someone at the alter? YOU HAD SO MANY OPPORTUNITIES BEFORE THIS (yes, this is Will's major flaw, and not the vicious murders he committed in order to get and keep a hot boyfriend).
> 
> Also Wally doesn’t exist because he would have gotten in the way and also because I forgot about him until I was already 2000 words in. 
> 
> Speaking of those murders, the form Hannibal takes while they're sitting next to a corpse is meant to be Alana.
> 
> Creature Hannibal from the show makes an appearance. This was unintentional. I did not know until I was writing it that this was going to happen, and I'm irritated, because I don't find creature Hannibal sexy and wanted to write regular Hannibal. But Will wanted to see all of Hannibal, and it just didn't work any other way.
> 
> Hannibal absolutely killed Will right there on the forest floor, still buried inside him. He did it with his hands. It was intimate. Will was thrilled. It was basically a wedding for them. A real one, and not one Hannibal will bring up several years later without Will's input lol.
> 
> Tumblr has crashed and burned so you can find me on [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Strats) and [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/stratumgermani1) now.


End file.
